Al Omari shot back, in perfect Spanish, that yes, it was quite a hot day in general. Aren’t you hot, she asked.

The women’s eyes widened with surprise.

The Garden Grove resident had prepared herself for the suspicious looks and glares that would accompany her hijab — a powerful, conspicuous symbol of the Muslim faith. But Al Omari was surprised by another, unexpected consequence of wearing the headscarf: It had essentially erased her Mexican American identity for other Latinos.

“As time went on, people were not seeing me as being Latina,” the Tijuana-born Al Omari said. “They were seeing me as Arab.”

As a Latina Muslim, she’s among the fastest-growing ethnic group in Islam and at the intersection of three demographics spurned during President Trump’s nascent administration: women, Muslims and Mexicans.

“It’s a heavy dance. You are never really in one place. It’s like you never feel at home in either place,” said Eren Cervantes-Altamirano, a Toronto-based blogger and writer who has researched and studied the intersection of being Latin American, indigenous and Muslim in the U.S. and Canada. “You have to play it day by day.”

Though the exact number of Latino Muslims in the U.S. is difficult to gauge, some experts estimate there are 200,000 and about 90 percent of them are converts, according to a report authored by Stephanie Londono, a Florida International University professor and researcher who has studied the trend of Latinas converting to Islam.

Most Islamic converts are women, Londono said.

“It’s a fluid identity for these women, especially Latina immigrants. They are creating their own category and creating their own story by mixing these two elements: Islam, a religion that is very visible, and being Latina — especially when they wear the hijab,” Londono said.

While being a Latina Muslim may be a growing trend, it certainly shouldn’t come as a surprise, said Cervantes-Altamirano, who converted to Islam 10 years ago and writes extensively on the challenges experienced by women who become Muslim.

“That is the nature of living in a society that is more diverse,” she said.

In Orange County, the Latino-majority city of Santa Ana is neighbors with Anaheim, home to Little Arabia.

Spurred by a sense that both were in the political crosshairs of the Trump administration, the communities created the Muslim-Latino Collaborative in Anaheim.

Some Latinas have converted to Islam as a result of a relationship with a Muslim partner, such as courtship or marriage, according to Londono’s study.

But while a Latino who converts to Islam can go about his life inconspicuously, women who choose to wear the hijab find that hard to do.

Lucy Silva, a Garden Grove resident, was born in Mexico and grew up Catholic, but she converted to Islam after meeting her husband, who is Muslim.

Silva converted to Islam three years before making the choice to permanently wear a headscarf. That was two weeks before the 9/11 attacks.

“It represented a lot of challenges. But it was not out of coercion. It’s based on my Islamic faith. I decided on my own to do it,” she said.

Wearing a Mexican-inspired flower-embroidered white shirt and her headscarf, Silva spoke about her decision before 400 people in a cramped room at the Islamic Society of Orange County mosque in Garden Grove during a World Hijab Day event.

Like Al Omari, Silva said most people don’t perceive her as Latina because she covers her head.

“We always have to defend our Latino heritage when it comes to communicating with other Latinos so we don’t lose that identity just because we are Muslim. With Mexicans, we have to prove we are still Latino,” she said. “With Muslims, we have to prove ourselves as Muslim through our faith. As Americans, we have to prove to Americans we are also American.”

In the beginning, even before wearing the hijab, Silva said she had to reassure her parents, who believed she was going to give up her identity after converting.